They are in the East and West upper corners of my studio.

The East one above in front of me. The West one above the work

bench. I don’t want to touch them. They are beautiful to my eyes.

When I stop for a while, playing my guitar or writing. I look at them.

And wonder at the long work hours spent building those magical

Cathedrals. There are times when the architect herself walks placidly

on my small table. I don’t know if she looks at me but I certainly look at

her. Looking calm and composed. Her very thin legs and body are the

very soul of her masterpieces. I feel utmost respect and admiration.

Wish could say something to her. But silence in between us says it all.

She continues her way and me too. Wonder if my singing is lousy to

her…no. Maybe she knows I respect her and the way she expresses

herself. And decides to leave me alone. And so I continue with my

menial exertions. I open the door widely. Need more fresh air.

Something deep touched me and I’m not capable of pinpoint it.

I’ll take a walk by the alley. It’s empty. I’m by myself. Look to the sky.

The moon is bright and the fresh air cleans my mind. I’ll go back to my

little room. I’ll stop here, dear ones. May you have a good night rest.

Yours.

EO